


We are the people that you'll never get the best of

by orphan_account



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Drunken idiots, Gen, M/M, celebration, i said i wouldn't write all 12 at once again, very next story I did just that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't get Shane wrong he's beyond thrilled they've won the Ashes, but did the drunken celebrations have to take place in his room?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are the people that you'll never get the best of

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly I don't claim any of my work represents how the Australian Cricket Team are in Real Life. That being said this one if particularly...out of character. 
> 
> I said something along the lines of you can't convince me the Aussie team's celebration doesn't involve a puppy pile and copious amounts of alcohol. Then I wrote it.
> 
> Obviously this didn't happen since we all know they went out to Crown Casino since Harris went on a twitter rant against it.

Life, Shane Watson reflected with a nearly full beer bottle held in his hands, was pretty good right now. Australia had finally ended their horror losing streak  by winning the first 3 tests to reclaim the Ashes, he’d finally scored his 4th test century and everyone in the team was getting on much better than they had  seven  months ago.

Unfortunately this also meant they’d taken over nearly every surface of his hotel room in their celebrations that had continued well on past leaving the WACA grounds. It could be worse, no one had started pouring beer over each other in his room yet, though he thought they might reach that stage before the night was out

Shane tunes out of the conversation he’s having with Peter and Michael, easily the most sober ones here, to quickly survey the room and make sure no one’s doing anything particularly stupid. Ryan and Mitch are quietly chatting on the balcony, whilst the rest of the team have pushed the coffee table out of the way to allow them enough space to sprawl all over the living area.

George and Jim are pressed together in a tangle of limbs close to the window,  Steve is sprawled out on his back taking up more space than Shane thought was possible, and Brad and Nate are leaning against the couch Dave and Chris are sitting on, deep in what appears to be quite an earnest  conversation, ignoring the five guys on the floor. 

As if sensing Shane is looking at him (or perhaps because they’re talking about him), Chris looks towards him at just that moment. Catching his eye, Shane sends a playful wink his way, because they’ve just regained the bloody fucking Ashes so why the hell not.

Unfortunately Dave, having realized he now didn’t have Chris’ undivided attention, has followed his line of sight in time to catch Shane’s gesture. Being the mature, sober adult he is, Dave then starts making ridiculous kissing noises.

Shane and Chris start flipping him off simultaneously, Chris retorting with something Shane can’t quite hear that sets the assembled group off into hysterics that continue to grow louder with every word Chris utters. Brilliant, thinks Shane.

Returning his attention to the guys he’s standing with, Shane interrupts Michael mid-sentence by asking “Why aren’t they in your room, since you know, you’re captain and all?” with narrowed eyes. Of course he knows why but Michael could try and be a little less smug about it.

“Benefits of having your wife with you on tour.” Michael shrugs, looking remarkably proud. Shane refrains from mentioning that other wives, like Rianna and Amy, never had a problem with post-match celebrations in their room unless their kids were with them. Now is neither the time nor the place.

“The disadvantages being you have to go running back to her early?” Peter asks good naturedly. Most of the wives and girlfriends understand post-win ‘bonding’, especially after winning a series as important as the Ashes, but some don’t.

“Unlike you lot I’d like to actually catch my flight home tomorrow.” Michael says defensively, placing his empty beer bottle down on the table, before turning and walking to the door.

“To be honest, I think the plan here is not to sleep before we all fly out.” Shane shakes his head with a sigh. Really he’d like a little bit of sleep before they leave, but he can always slip away to Chris’ room if it becomes absolutely necessary. 

“You all have planes to catch tomorrow.” Michael turns back to warn the room at large, hand still on the doorknob, “Try not to get so plastered you miss them.”

“Yes sir!” Peter salutes cheekily, everyone else too involved in their celebrating to hear him or, as Shane thinks is more likely, pretending not to hear him.  

“Have fun entertaining this lot then. Better you than me.” Michael winks at Shane, before actually leaving.

“That man has a flair for the dramatic.” Shane snorts, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

Peter snorts out a laugh, “Like you’re one to talk.”

Shane can admit he has probably acted a bit like a drama queen in the past so he just nods in agreement, “Exactly, it makes me the perfect judge.”

“Hey!” Brad calls out loudly interrupting their, admittedly not very important, conversation, “Where did Pup go?”

“Back to the wife.” Peter calls back with a cheeky grin, both of them well aware a group of drunk men are going to make childish comments.

They don’t disappoint, and a chorus of whipping sounds and crude jokes all being called out at once and blend together into a cacophony of random noise. 

“Hey why are you all over there?” Dave demands, as if suddenly noticing not everyone is lying in a drunken heap on Shane’s living area floor.

“Come here!” Smithy insists with a fumbling motion that Shane assumes is meant to be an inviting pat of the ground, “Watto and Rhino and Johno and Sids..o come over here.”

Ryan and Mitch immediately stop their conversation, walking over to drop down onto the floor and lean against the wall, taking the time for Ryan to call out “Oi Sids bring us some more booze,” before launching straight back into their previous conversation.

Peter and Shane exchange looks of sympathy, grab a six pack each from where they’re sitting onthe kitchen table and head over to the cluster,

“Watto, Watto come here.” Davey calls, flinging himself off the couch where he was sitting next to Chris before patting it with his hand; it’s very reminiscent of the scene in the sheds earlier, Shane thinks, indicative of Dave and his meddling ways.

“Do you want me to break a leg climbing over you or something?” Shane pretends to protest, before dropping the six-pack on the floor and dutifully climbing over Nate, Smithy and Dave to reach the small couch, as Siddle moves to sit next to Ryan.

“That’s it. We want you to break a leg so I can play the next game.” Jimmy grins up at him from where he’s now, almost curled into George’s side.

“You’ve broken your own finger dumbass.” Shane rolls his eyes as he lowers himself down onto the couch, unsure if Jim is making a joke or his already obnoxious personality has been made worse by beer.

The small gap between him and Chris quickly becomes non-existent, Chris shuffling sidewise so they are pressed together from knee to hip, but nothing more. Shane doesn’t even bother to hide his fond smile as he reaches an arm behind Chris, gently gripping the other man’s shoulder. 

“Get a rooom!” Smithy yells, rolling  around on the floor in such an uncoordinated manner that he ends up kicking Brad in the thigh and Sids in the chest before ending up sprawled across Ryan and Mitch’s laps.

“This is my room dipshit.” Shane shoots back automatically watching as Mitch pushes Smithy fully onto Ryan, who just shrugs and shifts his weight slightly, presumably to get more comfortable. Mitch does not look pleased, Shane notices with interest. “Would you rather we take yours?” 

“No!” Smithy practically yells, struggling to sit up. All he managed to do however is kicking his legs around once again, resulting in another close call, this time for Dave who manages to duck out of the way before hitting Steve’s leg with his empty beer bottle in warning. 

Glancing at Chris out of the corner of his eye Shane notices a slight blush starting to creep up his neck. No one else seems to have noticed but Shane thinks it’d be a good idea to change the subject right about now.

Unfortunately Jimmy has other ideas, “Could you two be any more shameless?” He asks, waving his half full beer bottle around hap-hazardously, he’s particularly … excited for someone who hasn’t played a game Shane notes, “Canoodling in front of the nation.”

“Canoodling.” Dave snorts judgementally under his breath, though he’s not being as quiet as he probably thinks he is.

The blush is further up Chris’ neck now and he turns awkwardly to face Shane. Shane’s pretty sure he only wants to hide his face but no matter how much he’s had to drink he’d never do it in front of the guys.

“Like you have a leg to stand on.” Shane rolls his eyes, attempting to move the attention elsewhere in the only way he knows how, “That CATV tv spot you guys did the other week, ‘I normally spend time with you’ ‘when you return my phone calls,” he mocked, complete with (pretty awful) impressions of their voices, and a fluttering of eyelashes  “ ‘where do you like to eat in Adelaide?’ ‘where I took you last night’ when we went on our  _fabulous_ date.”

“The public had the right to know we share a deep bond.” Jim shrugs carelessly, turning around and nuzzling his face into George’s neck. To George’s credit, patience probably developed from years of playing state cricket together, he just pats Jim’s head repeatedly.

“Everyone knows Jimmy is our little manwhore though.” George’s hand on Jim’s head turns into more of a ruffle than a pat at his words, “He could post a picture of us kissing on twitter and no one would think anything of it.”

“Does anyone actually wear clothes in your house?” Dave asks Jim, turning his head slightly so he can shoot Shane a cheeky wink. Shane once again is thankful for Dave’s involvement in their relationship, whilst it had been annoying before he’d  _actually_  gotten together with Chris, since then it has been particularly useful.

“It’s against my rules.” Jim grins cheerfully, managing to roll around so he’s now lying spread across George’s lap, his legs somehow having ended up resting on Nate’s shoulders. “Shirts are a sea shell construct.” 

“Do you mean social?” Nate asks, knocking Jim’s legs off his shoulders so they’re lying in his lap. Honestly the group of them on the floor kind of remind Shane of a pile of puppies. Actually puppies might me a good comparison for their general existence.

“That’s what I said.” Jim says, running his fingers along the hem of George’s shirt, the look on his face giving away his thoughts, “Death to the shirts.”

“Everyone will be keeping all their clothes on in my room thanks.” Shane interjects quickly, shooting Jim a glare. The last thing he needed was drunk _and_  naked teammates swarming his room.

“Right, because only you and Bucky are allowed to get naked in here.” And shit, they’re back to him and Chris again.

“Why Jim?” Brad speaks up, leaning his head back against Shane’s knees. Automatically he knows this is not going to a place he’s going to be happy with. “Want to join them?”

“No thanks.” Jim fakes a full body shudder, maybe he should be handed the drama queen title Shane reflects, “I’ve got my own harlem of young men, those two old men can be old together.”

“How about you go fuck yourself.” Chris finally speaks up cheerfully making quite a rude gesture at Jim. Age is always something that’ll get Chris fired up, Shane has come to realize.

Jim opens his mouth as if to retort, and they can probably all guess what he’s going to say, but thankfully George pinch him, Dave kicks him and even Ryan looks up from his quiet conversation with Sids and Mitch to say, “I really wouldn’t go there Faulks.”

“Everyone is such a spoil sport.” Jim pouts like a petulant child.

“You know if I was really a spoil sport I’d kick you out of  _my_  room.” Shane can’t help himself commenting mildly. As much as he enjoys team celebrations, sleep is also kind of nice. 

“You hinting at something Watto?” Mitch asks, stretching his legs out in front of him and cracking his neck, both signs of restlessness in the fast bowler.

“Just that if you lot are going to get rowdy and even more stupid than usual, take it somewhere else.” 

“You know what sounds like a good idea right now?” Brad asks, sitting up suddenly straighter

“What?” Shane asks wearily, pretty sure whatever he’s going to suggest will be the opposite of a good idea.

Shane can honestly say he did not expect the response to be, “Going to the casino!”

“Are you serious?” Chris asks, able to tell it’s a dumb idea even in his pretty fucking tipsy state. “That does _not_ sound like a good idea.”

“Yeah it does!” Surprisingly it’s Ryan who voices his approval now, shoving Smithy, who has almost fallen asleep, from his lap as if preparing to leap to his feet.

“Right. It’s settled, let’s go.” Jim agrees, planting his hand’s on George’s knees and levering himself into a standing position. Shane isn’t complaining that they’re leaving, but the sudden decision to go to the Casino is completely out of the blue.

All around the room the guys start to get up, except for Smithy who continues to lie in his daze on the floor not waking up despite the fact Shane’s seen at least 3 people step on him.

“I suppose someone should go keep an eye on them?” Peter asks, making a beeline for where Chris and Shane are still sitting on the couch. Chris’ head has now migrated so it’s now resting on his shoulder.

“Probably.” Shane agrees, not that either him or Pete are going to be any good trying to reign in six drunk ass men high on pride and victory.

“That someone is going to be me isn’t it?” Pete asks with a sigh, though he doesn’t seem that put out by it.

“Most definitely. Now all of you get lost.” Shane says with a laugh as the mass of guys head for the door.

“Hey wait!” Chris calls out, sitting up straight now, “Dave, phone.” He says sternly, sticking out his hand. Even in his drunken state Chris is looking out for his friends, managing to be the only responsible person in a room also containing their Vice Captain.

Surprisingly enough Davey actually listens, walking back to them and solemnly dropping his phone in Chris’ hand. 

“Anyone else think they can’t be trusted with social networking?” Shane asks, mostly joking. None of them have really had problems besides Dave before, not that he sees the allure of twitter himself.

A chorus of ‘no’s wash over them, followed by goodbyes before finally everyone’s gone leaving Chris and Shane alone.

Well except for Steve who’s now snoring… Loudly. 


End file.
